Long Take no prisoners Poems
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These children need a male role model, the teacher said.
But, I argued. He would have to be sane, right in the head.
She rolled her eyes, believing that all males are well-bred.
Which tells me that her global knowledge is all but dead.
What about that dude? I ask as he climbs off a mo-ped.
He doesn’t look like our type, said the teacher, Miss. Fred.
The guy laughed at her idiocy, and picked lint off his thread.
This, my dear, is our Principal, Mr. Theodore also called Ted.
She looks embarrassed, and her face turns a lovely red.
These children need a male role model, she quickly tells Ted.
Ted nods his head and says “I have been to my homestead.”
“Shortly, we will be joined by my big brother Take-No-Prisoners-Ned.”
When I go into a store, I take no prisoners, especially if I like the merchandise.
I ooh, and awe. I exclaim loudly the attributes of a variety of items, asking
“Is this new?” “Are there any more?” “Is there a limit?”
I enthusiastically throw my shopping prowess all over the store in sorted ways.
“ONLY ONE!” I yell, holding up a lopsided pink flamingo. “I have to have it!”
I pop it into my cart, trying not to notice the sneaky old woman who is now following me.
The next time I see her, she and the pink flamingo are checking out, which pleases me to no end.
All the sales people rush to help me. I memorize their names quickly, and give them compliments.
They are whirling and twirling, not doing their jobs when the boss comes out of the back office.
“I wish I could BUY this store!” I yell. The owner stops dead in her tracks, forgetting to chastise anyone.
“You can!” she says. “It is for sale!”
If I had a quarter for every time this has happened, I would be driving a new car, probably a Lincoln.
The next thing I know, people are bring me warm croissants, hair clips, and whatever else I need so I can
Shop “in peace”.
I am the only one who ever gets to use the employee restroom in some stores.
As they want me to BE an employee.
Sometimes the manager gets permission to take me to lunch and treat me.
I almost always get offered a job, because people seem to love enthusiasm.
Do not ask me why. I see it every day. I work with children.
By the time I am ready to leave this adventure, a favored store clerk is asked to put me on his shoulders and carry me to my car.
There is a little parade behind me, and the owner hands me a key to the store as I get into my old vehicle.
I wave all the way to the interstate with wild aplomb, and they wave back enthusiastically.
I watch them clap each other on their backs as they turn.
I am apparently the only one who knows I will probably never be back.
Battered and bruised and broken before
My courageous heart, comes back for more
It soldiers on but finds no peace
Losing time and again, the battles never cease
A kindred spirit it fights to find
Shattered dreams and tears, in it's wake behind
Mending itself after each conflict
Future struggles, it can not predict
One more battle, one more hill
My enduring heart, perseveres until...
This chosen battlefield, a final stand
A fight for happiness, none left to command
With a steady beat, it marches on
My fearless heart, with it's armor gone
The battle plan remains the same
Take no prisoners, ignore the pain
Your offer submitted, surrender deterred
Relinquish my heart, death is preferred
Battered and bruised and broken before
My mercenary heart comes back for more...
Feb 2 2016 an original poem by Daniel Turner
I spoke to a daughter and she rallied another daughter who ran into
The hospital to save me.
she brought a beautiful purple vase, pink carnations, and briefcases,I think there were at least 53 for thee.
“what doctor has been here.”
“What does he look like? What is the medicine you take at three?”
Try to always bring
An assertive smart
Take-no prisoners
Daughter-to the
Hospital with you
Because not only
Will you get your meds,
They will get so flustered
You will get 3 dinners.
As my daughter followed Dr Try ToEscape
Back to his office to watch him data in my pills
And their frequency I grinned.
Angela, an adult was here
To make the Carens feel better.
We all cheered!
Sweetest child in the school
5th grade
Giant puppy
If you said the sweetest kid ever
I could name him
And I would
Cry Cry Cry
I feel horrible.
Bring him to my office
Who hurt him?
What did they say?
What did they do?
In Mama Bear mode
I am going to take no prisoners
They can lie in cages eating wallpaper
And will want to after I get finished with them
Many tears later I discover
The trickster told him that he said that they said that he said that she said.
I am horrified.
I have taught six million lessons on
Not being stirred up by he-said-she-said nonsense
We discuss my lessons
Which he forgot in the heat of the moment
I know the instigator. He is a piece of work.
Can stir faster than me even, and I am pretty good at it.
Finally change subject
What will he do tonight for fun?
He finally says play ball.
A bit of a smile
Tears start
Then tears up again.
His bat is lost.
Wait a second, I say.
In the house?
Head nod.
It has to be under
something long, a bed
or a couch right?
He is stymied
Not sure now what
emotion to feel
“Do you mean I am going to have
to come to your house tonight and find our bat?”
He gives me directions and his address.
I smile.
“And what would your mother say if an old woman
Came to your house to help you find our bat?”
He stares at me a long time.
“Thank you?” he whispers.
I love sweet supersensitive
Innocent 5th grade boys
Before they fall into
the clutches of the 21-year-old
6th grade girls.
Echoes of the 90s Hip Hop
In the dawn of the nineties glow, Beats dropped heavy, spirits in flow, old school vibes, raw and true, rhythms that kicked butt shaped a culture anew/
G-funks smooth, West Coasts ride, East Coasts hustle, man, pride you can't hide, from Tupac's voice to Big L's rhyme, legends etched in the sands of time/
Boom bap beats and scratchin decks, Classic cuts that still connect, Undergrounds dance steps, popin' and deep, secrets that the old 90's school keeps diggin' on ya, that's for keeps/
Mix tapes spinning, smokin' joints alive, every rhyme a hustle, a story to survive, from Diddys
drops to Ice Cube's boombox stance, Hip hop's soul a fierce dance/
So, dig this, here's a high-five to hip hop's golden age, the craft, the passion, the music, rapper's rage, forever in our turntable hearts they stay, the timeless sound of hip-hop's "beat down" lies in its aggressive, stripped-back rhythm, take no prisoners sound, a blueprint for heavy social commentary/
Man, it's the message, hip-hop history, forever new/
Here I stand
Right at the frontline
Ready to cave
Ready to fall
Surrender it all
An army of fear
Takes aim
Ready to fire
Wanting control
The white flag lies on the ground
Ready to wave
Ready to forget
Wishing to die
The memory for the fight
Slips away
Bombs around
Blasting me down
Blood soak tears
Descend into the muck
Been stuck so many years
So afraid to rise
To stare it all down
To free myself from these chains I hold dear to my broken heart
Fire and smoke surrounds me
Unable to breath
The end seems to be the dream
But the reality of these battles are mere insecurities
The war for my life stares me down
Am I going to cave
Am I going to fall
Will I let those around suffer this fate with me
Hell No
Time to maintain
Time to challenge
Time for a battle plan
Attack what I fear
Take no prisoners
Stand tall Stand Proud
Take my legacy head on
Let it show all
Become the victor
I was shy at twenty, afraid to look in mirrors,
Scared of what I saw.
I remember the first time I looked in one and saw that I was pretty.
I gasped, and it frightened me.
I felt proud and ashamed.
I am so beyond that now,
feeding my muse with happy antidotes,
flinging poetry and art onto canvases, confident
I am doing so well it might embarrass another, not me.
I was hesitant when I was twenty,
Careful to not alienate anyone,
Never using a swear word,
Hoping everyone would like me.
I have fifteen hundred facebook friends now.
I had eighteen hundred, but I de-friended three hundred of them.
Unfriended them, unfollowed them, and loved every second of it.
Knowing now the only opinion I care about is mine.
Today I thoroughly approve of the "me" I have created.
Trixie my muse is my pirate queen.
We take no prisoners now, and make no apologizes.
When the phone rings we laugh -slaves, and minions to no one.
Mirrors make us happy.
Who you calling a soupy sap? Soupy.
I like slurping soup when it turns into sloup
‘Cause I been staying up way too long
Sippin’ soup into the wee hours of night,
Sometines, I even make it to the Morning light
My head’s full of mystery and wonder
As I lap up your lyrics and huff up your haikus
I stir up the pot with a few of mine own
I’m such a soupy sap, I am
I just love getting soupy with strangers as friends
Never knowing who I just might find
Perhaps, another like mind, or not
I just like it, love it, when you’re soupy and hot
Filling my head with dreams, wit and pondering plots
Let the note that you once wrote
Catch a glimmer of fame
And add it to the soup
Let it dissolve my brain
And evolve my frame of mind
Through time
And it gives me hope
It just may be the extra added flavor -
We’ve all been waiting for. . .
So, I say it again, who you callin’ soupy? Soupy.
I like it when you’re soupy, my friend
I ‘ll like you soupy to the end
Keep it tame but take no prisoners
Nobody wants sloppy seconds
Certainly, nothing artificial
So always keep it real, from the heart
At the very least, from the Art.
Come, be a part of my world
As I enter yours.
So, go ahead. . .
Get soupy, sloppy soupy
Blazed, glazed and gone sloupy
I tale you, there's really something soupy going on here
Oh my, lots of sloupiness
Oh my goodness, too much soupiness!
As if that was even possible.
This is just how I get when I taste your poems on poetrysoup.
Never a day goes by when she walks the shore alone
Grief stricken she has become now his spirits having flown
Seafaring was in his blood, ancestral like his past
For the seas take no prisoners, life very seldom lasts
Never a day goes by when she walks the shore alone
Her heart forever tormented for his seed shall never be sown
She weeps constantly for the love that grew with her soul
To grow old in their marriage, having children their only goal
Never a day goes by when she walks the shore alone
Loyalty in her remains as the past decades have always shown
The stone that now lays in remembrance, stands battered and worn
For the seas display their wrath, leaving the future of some unborn
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-6.php